


To Teach Is To Learn

by afterandalasia



Category: The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Adultery, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Bestiality Dirty Talk, Community: disney_kink, Cuckolding, Deepthroating, F/M, Gangbang, Implied/Referenced Mind Control, Maledom/Femsub, Multiple Penetration, Oral Sex, Porn, Pregnancy Dirty Talk, Quadruple Penetration, Topping from the Bottom, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2018-06-01 00:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6494224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ariel has her own preferred activities whilst her husband is otherwise busy. Her favourite learnings of this world are ones that involve many men, and her body; if she has to find less usual ways to persuade those men, then so be it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Teach Is To Learn

**Author's Note:**

> From the [anon prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/4400.html?thread=4594736#t4594736) at the Disney Kink Meme.

There's only one reason why people ever come to this inn. The beer is dreadful, the floor is filthy, the barmaids are dour and unattractive, and everything is overpriced.  
  
But the whores congregate here, and some of them are pretty, and after a while your cock gets so hard you just stop caring about what's connected to the cunt or ass or mouth that you want to put it into, and you only want the fucking.  
  
When it comes to fucking, the best place to find it has always been this inn.  
  
You start to recognise some of the whores after a while. Know which ones can stretch their mouth all the way down to the base of your cock, know which ones can hook their foot up behind their head, know which ones will suck you off for a few copper pence, the cheapest fucks around. Some of them come and go, some of them are here most nights, by themselves or in pairs of with their pimps watching with shady eyes.  
  
There's this one, though, a figure that sits in the corner all hooded, the shape of her cloak not hiding that it is a woman, short, pert tits, tight ass. If men ever approach her she turns them away, often with just a sharp wave of her pale hand. Like some fucking lady. Eventually, though, she'll get up and go whisper in some man's ear, and then take him by the hand and lead him from the room.  
  
Sometimes she comes back for a second.  
  
He's been watching her for the longest time, wanting to rip off that hood and see her face. Perhaps she's as ugly as fuck, that's why she hides, why she comes here to get her pussy stuffed because there's no man elsewhere who would do it.  
  
"This tastes like fucking horse piss," mutters the man next to him. They often drink together, though they don't swap names.  
  
"Always fucking does," he replies.  
  
The woman's in there again tonight, sitting by the fire, a glass of honest-to-fucking-god wine in front of her. Where the wine comes from, fucks knows. He's never seen anyone else in here with it. The light means that, just for once, he gets a glimpse of white skin underneath, and frowns, because he can see nothing wrong with it. For a moment the hood turns towards him, and he could swear he's being looked at, but then the moment passes.  
  
She gets to her feet, goes over to a man in the corner negotiating with a whore, and bends to whisper something in his ear. Surprise registers on his face, then lust, and the whore cusses him out as he eagerly takes the woman's offered hand and allows himself to be led from the room.  
  
"I swear, there's no new meat," says the man next to him. "I've fucked every whore in this dive."  
  
"Apart from her," he mutters, low enough that it is ignored. The woman has come back into the room now; she pauses in the doorway, looks around, then moves over to another man and repeats the same move. Again: surprise, lust, acceptance. Does she fuck them for free, to do so well?  
  
"Might as well just jack off," continues his companion. He almost lets him leave, just to be spared the fucking whining, were it not for the fact that once more, the woman comes through the door, and this time looks straight at them.  
  
"Fuck," he says, and can't manage anything more.  
  
The woman weaves through the tables towards them. He can see more, now that she is moving: pale slim hands, a blue skirt, light shoes on her feet. The cloak cannot hide her slim figure and just the thought makes him painfully hard. She makes it to the other side of the table and plants her hands on it, spreading her cloak so that he can see the outline of her breasts. Sweat forms a sheen on her skin.  
  
He can just make out the shadows of her face: narrow-chinned, pale, with bright eyes and curls of hair barely held back. "What do you want?" he demands, before she can speak.

"I want to fuck," she replies. She has some sort of accent, one that he hasn't heard before, exotic. He's heard about exotic women, some of the things that they do in those strange lands. More than that, her voice sends a shiver down his spine, creeps into his mind and binds her to him. "You."  
  
Her finger moves between him and the man who had been about to leave. Both of them are spellbound.  
  
"No money. Just sex."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I like to fuck. My husband doesn't do enough of it. Come."  
  
She holds out her hands, and he takes one without even thinking. Her skin is cold, delicate-boned, but she leads them back through the inn with a strength he did not expect, through the door to the rear, up the stairs and into one of the back rooms where the whores bring the customers who are willing to pay a little more. A large mattress is spread on the floor; two men are already sitting on the edge of it, with the same expression of lust and just a hint of questioning why they are here.  
  
"Sit down," says the woman, releasing their hands, and they do so without questioning. She locks the door behind them, then removes her cloak and hangs it on the back. Red curls burst forth, reaching almost to her waist, thick and shiny. He wants to wrap his hands in them and pull. Then she turns, and a gasp catches in his throat and almost makes him choke.  
  
Everyone knows about the princess, that strange beauty with no past who came from nowhere to steal Prince Eric's heart. Everyone knows about their marriage. What he cannot understand is how the princess is standing here, in the clothes of a commoner, looking at them with calculated desire in her eyes.  
  
She fingers the shell that hangs around her neck, and smirks. Her breasts push at the edge of her corset, threatening to break free; her tiny waist and round hips seem to set each other off perfectly. Her face is beautiful, unimaginably beautiful. He wants to fall to the ground and kiss her feet.  
  
"You will be called Alef," she says, pointing to the first of the men seated before her. Her finger skims along. "You will be Bet; you, Gimel; and you," her finger came to rest on him, "Dalet."  
  
Dalet is his name; Dalet he will be.  
  
"Take off your clothes," she says, and they all tumbled to agree, placing their clothes in four piles on the rush-strewn floor. Dalet looks up for a moment to see her fondling her breast through the fabric of her shirt, and fights harder with his breeches in a sudden desire to be the first one to do as she says. When he turns, though, she raises one hand, and he stands still and waits for her.  
  
They are all of them hard already, cocks aching, unable to tear their eyes away from her. They all watch as the princess slowly removes her clothes, first her corset and then the shirt beneath, revealing perfect creamy breasts with pink pointed nipples, her narrow waist; then her skirt, and she wears no underclothes. Long lean legs, smooth with muscle, and a neat triangle of red hair between her thighs. It makes him think of her pussy, and his hands almost go to his cock.  
  
"No," she says sharply, looking straight at him, and his hands move quickly away again. "You are here to fuck me, not please yourself."  
  
She walks between them, moves to the middle of the mattress, and then drops to her knees.  
  
"Now," she continues, with all of the poise her rank demands, "I have fucked many men, in many ways. Today I want you to do something new for me. But first, I will suck each of your little pricks, to check that they are good enough."  
  
She turns to Dalet and crooks one finger to draw him over. He does so without a thought, standing in front of her whilst she looks at his hard cock critically and tosses her hair back from her face. She spits into her hand and rubs it all over him, and he bites the inside of his lip to suppress a groan although her eyes have not moved upwards. Along his length, around; her hands are so small she can barely close them all the way around him. He casts a glance to the others, and is pleased to see that although Alef may have the longest cock of them all, his is the fattest, and he has fucked enough women to know that is the more important one.

With his attention so aside, he has no warning for when the princess's hot mouth surrounds him, suddenly engulfing the head of his cock and then bobbing up and down. A grunt escapes him, and the other men snigger, but then the princess moves his hands to her hair and grabs hold of his hips to let him fuck her mouth, and he rather fancies he will never want to fuck another. She sucks at him eagerly, sloppy noises coming from her lips where they slap against his flesh, pretty mouth stretched around him, tongue stroking forcefully along the underside of his cock. She is intent, and does not seem to mind when he wraps his hands tighter in her hair, taking hold like the bridles of a horse, and starts to force himself deeper into her. Indeed, encouraging noises come forth from deep in her throat, and then with a slight twist she takes him down to the root, plunging him into her throat, nose against his skin and lips against his balls, and the quivering of her muscles makes him almost see stars.  
  
Before he can cum hot down her pretty throat, however, she draws away, spittle shining on her lips, and gives him a nod. "Very good. Step aside."  
  
The other men look at him with envy at first, but then she beckons another, and as his cock receives the same treatment Dalet cannot help but feel a stab of envy, of rage. He will take this woman, he will fuck her. He will fuck her better than any of them, harder, fuller, make her scream and gush her juices over his cock. One by one, she swallows down each of their cocks then comes up breathing hard, breasts bouncing, and announces them acceptable.  
  
"Now." She rolls onto her back, parting her legs, spreading her pretty pussy for them. He can see it shining already. "Bet and Dalet, you will lick my cunt," she pointed, as if they needed any clues, "and my ass. Alef, you will have my breasts, and Gimel, in my mouth once again."  
  
He fights with Bet to be the one that gets closer, but in the end she hooks one leg around each of their shoulders and spreads wide enough that both of them might get their mouths to her at once. She tastes of salt and skin, the most delicious cunt he has ever tasted, and he forces his tongue into her to get the best taste that he can. Bet's tongue is swirling over her clit, already released from its hood and proud of her skin; a glance lets him know that Aleph's tongue and teeth and hands are already pinching and fondling those lovely white breasts, and beyond that Gimel fucks her mouth with abandon, balls smacking against her face, whilst she makes muffled grunts and moans that might be caused by any or all of them.  
  
He licks at her aggressively, draws the folds of her skin into his mouth to suck them, fights Bet and ends up with both of them flicking her clit with their tongues at once. It is he, though, who has the idea to put his fingers into her, and the bucking of her hips suggests that it is a fine one. How long he stays like that he is not even quite sure, swirling the taste of her on his tongue, fingers hooked within her to massage that point which all women seem to adore, listening to the sounds she makes muffled by another man's cock. Lust and jealousy rage in him, and he is glad when he hears her push Gimel away, panting for breath, though disappointed when she also closes her thighs and draws away from them all.  
  
Sweat sheens across her skin, spit round her mouth, her lips red and swollen. Pink marks are spread across her breasts and on the inside of her thighs, and he has never wanted a woman so much in his life. The shell rolls against her throat, even as she breathes heavily enough to make her breasts quiver, and then she rises to her knees once again, this time keeping her hands to the floor and raising her ass in the air. Round white globes, and the promise between, already shining. Perhaps she slicked herself with oil before she came; she did, after all, ask for this fuck.

"Bet," she said. "On the floor." He slides beneath her, adoring lust in his eyes, hands going to her breasts to pinch and pull and them without her even having to say so. She makes a guttural little sound and throws her head back, spilling her hair all across her back. She spreads her knees to straddle him, and from where he sits Dalet can see her pussy, all pink and shiny, and she spreads herself with her fingers to take Bet inside her.  
  
Jealousy flashes through him; his hands almost curl into fists. She takes him so easily, it seems, slippery and smooth as he starts to pump in and out of her, almost tentatively, as if he cannot believe that it is being done.  
  
"M-more," she says, and it is almost a growl, not stuttered but interrupted by one of Bet's thrusts, and she fixes her eyes on Dalet. "You. In my pussy, as well. I want to feel both of you at once."  
  
He has heard whores offer it, but even when he has shared them with other men has not done this. For that voice, though, for the flash of her blue eyes behind a few fine stray strands of her hair, he does exactly as she asks, and follows her instructions to place his knees, to come close and let her hand guide him into her. She stretches, hot around him, muscles flexing hard above and the grind of another man's cock below. Seeing her stretch, feeling her flesh move to contain him. He wraps his hands tightly around her hips, in the perfect place to thrust, to fuck her hard, her pussy so wet that she takes it perfectly even with two of them fucking into her. It makes her make little mewling sounds, high-pitched and desperate in her throat, face flushing.  
  
She tosses her head again, locking eyes with Aleph, gesturing him closer. Her breasts sway with each obscene pound into her stretched cunt, shell bouncing against her skin. "You," she says, voice sultry, seeping into his brain as if to draw him nearer without even needing to touch. Aleph crawls towards her, then rises onto his knees with his thick cock in hand, guiding it towards her waiting lips.  
  
Her lips shone as she stretched her neck out, reaching out for him with her tongue and her lustful eyes. A satisfied moan slides from her lips as she takes him into her mouth, muscles twitching with the movements of her tongue, cheeks puffing and sucking against him. Aleph's hands twine into her hair, taking great handfuls of the red silk, cupping her head in his hands as he thrusts into her mouth while she encourages him with grunts and eager tilts of her chin.  
  
Her body rocks into a rhythm between them, sweat sheening on her skin, pooling in the hollow of her spine. Gimel cannot help but wonder how many other men have fucked the princess like this, on a greying mattress in the back room of some filthy in, how many have pounded into her cunt and spent in her. She would have been put to death if her husband knew; no, doubtless he imagines that his wife is reading or sewing or some pretty womanly thing, not that she spreads herself like a whore for the pleasure of the rough men of the town. Despite the men she must have taken, despite the way it stretched to take those two thick cocks, her pussy is still tight around them; as tight as a virgin and as innocent as a whore.  
  
For a moment she pulls away from the cock in her mouth, her lips flushed, and a sneer of disdain finds her features. "You think you are enough? I have been fucked better by drunkards in back alleys! _Fuck_ me, you pathetic little boys!"  
  
Her tone rings with disappointment, and anger flares in him, at her and at himself for disappointing her. Harder, faster, he pounds into her, hips slamming so hard that he fancies he might leave bruises on her ass, hopes that she will not be able to sit after this. Aleph grabs her head to fuck her mouth more roughly, burying her cock to the hilt until her lower lip presses against his balls, drawing almost all the way back to let her take in a gasp of air before plunging in again. Her face flushes; she sputters as she takes him in, tongue still moving underneath and lips leaving trails of spit all along him; but the sounds from her throat are of pleasure mixed in with the pain, and Dalet can only take that as a cue that this is what she wanted all along.

Clearly Gimel has decided the same. He palms his cock, stroking it to hardness as he kneels beside her pretty face and grabs her hair to pull at it. "You want us to fuck you, princess? Want them to pound their fat cocks in your little pussy? How many men have you had there, hmm? You many have put their little pricks where only your prince's little prick should go? Maybe that's why you need two, maybe one won't do anymore."  
  
He slaps his cock against her cheek, once, twice; the princess's hands tighten in the carpet but something in her becomes more excited, more tightly wound. It is as if she tilts her hips higher to take the cocks buried in her.  
  
"You wanna see how real men fuck?" Aleph adds. She moans around his shaft, and it is like a gate has opened; from awed silence he finds himself with filthy words on his tongue. "You little whore, have you been trying to see how many men you can fuck? Wait till I come down your throat, you little cocksucker. You want that? Hot and wet down your little throat, choking on my come?"  
  
She gives a groan, muffled by his cock in her mouth.  
  
"Bet you'd fuck anything, you little whore," says Gimel. He continues to fist his cock, hard, fast, right beside her cheek, drops of precome splashing on her skin. "Maybe I should get some dogs off the street, have them fuck you, huh? Get a good big dog to bury his cock in you and knot you like a bitch? Does that get you hot, you slut, thinking about being fucked by animals? Maybe even get a horse rip you open, pound into your womb, huh?"  
  
"I wonder if she'd want her prince to see this," Dalet says. He can imagine the look on the prince's face at his wife like this, and lets himself laugh. "See her with two men's pricks up her quim, another in her throat, taking it from every angle. Are all the women of your land whores like this, princess?"  
  
The other men laugh, but Gimel moves round, pushing Dalet aside so that he, too, can swing a leg over the princess. "Oh, not every angle, not yet. I see your little ass here, princess." He pushes one finger into the ripe, pink pucker, and she gives a shudder that runs through them all. "Yeah, you want that? I bet you've had men fucking you here, too." A second finger. "I can feel that oil, readying it. How long did you think it was going to take us to find that? Thought you were going to have to tell us?" His fingers pumped, slick, forceful, and her already-erratic breathing tightened further. "Men like us, we know whores like you. Know you're gonna want all that you can get."  
  
"I bet your prince doesn't know about that. Bet he thinks you should just lie back and part your legs, let him try to get an heir on you."  
  
"Doesn't know what a little whore you are. Do you suck his cock, princess? Does his dick fill your mouth like this, does he get to feel your lips on his balls?" Now they are speaking like one, the words flowing from all around her, heaping on her. Her body is tensing, eyes squeezing shut, but her sopping cunt screams for more, her mouth still moving eagerly. "Does he know how you taste, princess? Does he ever taste the other men on your cunt?"  
  
Gimel spreads her with his fingers, and guides his cock in. A groan escapes her, in a spare moment where her mouth is not full of Aleph's cock, and now there are four of them all inside her, taking over her, using her from every end.  
  
"Maybe I should fill your pretty ass with my seed, see if you can let it all drip out before you go back to him," says one of them, and he doesn't know which, but it might even be him.  
  
"Or maybe we should come on your pretty pale skin, leave all those streaks of come on you, cover you in it so you can't wash it off, leave you smelling like a whore."  
  
"Perhaps we'll leave a bastard next on the throne, our seed taking root instead of your prince's. Would you like that, whore? Would you like a son with a hundred fathers? The next king not knowing where he came from?"

She gives a moan, a sob, a shudder, all at once, shaking between them all as they take her still, and some sort of climax, some sort of nadir, washes over her in waves that go on and on like he didn't think was even possible, the muscles of her pussy clenching hard, her throat quivering, her shoulders shaking as one by one they spend in her, first Aleph in her throat so that some of his seed spurts out of the corners of her mouth, then Bet in jerking motions in her pussy, and that is enough to trigger Dalet as well, feeling their hot seed mixing in her and with her juices, and with a wild cry Gimel draws out and comes in streaks and spatters over her back, white on white skin and shining, and they pull away to let her fall to the floor, still shaking, still gloriously beautiful with tears running down her face and come on her thighs and dripping on her breasts, and it is like she has ended the world in one great explosion.  
  
How long they stay there, he does not know, cocks flaccid but aching with remaining desire and spent lust, whilst her breathing slowly returns to normal and the sweat begins to dry on her skin, and she uncurls from the ball in which she has lain. Finally she opens her eyes, shining blue, and a smile reaches her lips the like of which he has not seen before. It is pleased, and a little predatory, and she fingers the shell at her neck with one hand as she says:  
  
"You have pleased me."  
  
A surge of pleasure, of pride, rises in him as well at the pronouncement. She rises to her feet, reaching for her clothes even with so many fluids still upon her. Her pink wet tongue escapes from her mouth to lick her lips clean, removing the traces of them from her face.  
  
"I may come back for you," she says, and he wonders whom she means because he cannot remember who he is, and it whispers from the back of his mind that the men she chooses are never seen again. It doesn't matter, though. All that he wants to do is fuck her, over and over until the world ends or he withers into nothingness, consumed by her cunt, her lustfulness. All of them look at her with the same foolish expression, not sure, not caring what to do now, even as she leaves the room, leaves them behind in this strange sex-reeking room with these fantastical memories.  
  
Pleasing, pleasing her... is all that he remembers, and all that he wants.


End file.
